


Ronald's Detention

by Tango7



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Severus Snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:07:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24450322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tango7/pseuds/Tango7
Summary: Ronald ends up in detention with Professor Snape. The resulting events lead Ron to re-examine some of his assumptions about the potions master. Takes place during 5th year.
Relationships: Severus Snape & Ron Weasley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote this years ago and posted it on fanfiction.net. I just got an account with Archive of Our Own (mostly so I can bookmark other people's fantastic work!) and - though it's unedited and frankly not very good - I figured I might as well post here as well. I hope you enjoy!

“Weasley!”

Ron jerked up from his slouched posture, raising his head to find Professor Snape’s black eyes fixed upon his own not more than a foot from his face. The professor’s thin, stained hands were splayed on the desk that acted as a barrier between the teacher and student. His greasy, lank hair hung down in front of his pale face, but not enough to hide the expression of vexation that sat upon it.

“The instructions for this potion are written clearly on the board Mr. Weasley. Is it really too much to ask for you brew it properly? Or am I incorrect in assuming that you have at least the minimal amount of intelligence it takes to read?”

Ron said nothing, knowing that Professor Snape’s questions were rhetorical, and any response he could try to make would only result in more derision from his teacher. He kept his eyes on the Strengthening Solution in front of him… or at least, it was supposed to be a Strengthening Solution. Instead of the shimmering turquoise that was the result of a correctly brewed potion, much like Hermione’s, his was thick and dark blue, almost black.

“Five points from Gryffindor for your abysmal performance.” Professor Snape stood straight and vanished the foul concoction from Ronald’s cauldron. “Tonight you can write me an essay articulating exactly all the errors you made, and I assure you Mr. Weasley that there were many. Do this and you will receive half credit for your work, such as it is. Hand it in tomorrow.”

With a sneer Snape turned and stalked to the front of the class with his black robes billowing behind him.

_Greasy bat,_ Ronald thought, but having just been the focus of Snape’s ire, he didn’t dare voice the thought aloud. He looked over to Hermione, who gave him a sympathetic look. Her potion was done perfectly, but of course Professor Snape would never acknowledge her intelligence except to mock her for being a know-it-all. She turned back to bottle up her potion and clean up her work space.

On Ron’s other side, Harry had just completed his potion. It was more light green than turquoise, but Harry poured it into the vial to hand in. He had given up long ago on trying his best in potions class.

Ron began cleaning up his own workspace, using more force than necessary as he jammed his books back into his bag. He ignored Hermione’s warning glance at his mistreatment of the texts and wiped down his desk with quick, jerky swipes.

Ron internally admitted to himself that he was still intimidated by Snape, and was unwilling to directly misbehave. His frustration instead manifested itself as he slammed his cauldron down after rinsing it out hard enough to cause a loud bang to ring throughout the classroom. He winced, but a quick glance up showed that the potions professor was occupied berating another student’s work.

Still annoyed, and with his thoughts more occupied on bemoaning the amount of homework that he had to do in the evening, including Snape’s extra assignment, than what his hands were doing, he reached out for the Salamander’s blood to put away. His coordination failed him though, had rather than grabbing the jar, he hit it with the back of his hand.

Ron watched with horror as the container flipped end over end, its trajectory heading straight towards Neville and his cauldron, which had not yet been emptied. Like a parody of the game basketball, which Ron recalled Harry explaining to his father once, the jar bounced off the front and then the back of the rim, before tipping with a dull plop into the putrid mix that Neville had created.

Ron, Neville, and all the other students who had seen what had happened all froze. The jar sank into the brown concoction, and for a moment nothing else seemed to happen. Then large, thick bubbles began to appear on the surface, inflating steadily before bursting, growing bigger each time.

At this, the students began to back away nervously. Five years of potions with Neville had resulted in fellow students gaining a sixth sense for wrecked and potentially dangerous potions created by the nervous boy.

Neville himself had remained still by his cauldron, but Hermione reached out and grabbed his elbow, yanking him away just as the potion before him burst and coated the surrounding table, chairs, and floor in a thick, sizzling sludge.

The subsequent scramble to stay away from the mess came to an abrupt halt as the potion was suddenly vanished. Ron swallowed heavily, and turned to once again face his professor.

“I see now Mr. Weasley that you are so inept that you have managed to ruin another potion despite that fact that you are no longer actually brewing.” The professor’s voice, rather than being raised, had become smooth and quiet, and overtly menacing. “Admittedly, what Longbottom created could hardly be classified as anything other than a disaster, but that does not warrant tossing ingredients around the room.”

Ron tried to protest. “I didn’t do it on purpose! It was a mistake. I-”

“That does not exempt you from the consequences of your stupidity. Ten points from Gryffindor, and a detention for talking back. Be at my office at 7 o’clock. Do endeavor to be on time.”

Once again, Ron opened his mouth to argue, but a sharp kick to his shin courtesy of Hermione kept him from saying anything. Harry glared at Professor Snape’s back, angry on behalf of his friend, but refrained from commenting. Across the classroom, Ron could see Malfoy and the other Slytherins laughing and enjoying Ron’s misfortune.

The three friends finished putting away their materials without incident. Ron handled the ingredients with exaggerated care as he carried them over to be stored. Finally the room was clean and Professor Snape dismissed the class.

Ron stormed out of the classroom, leaving Harry and Hermione to run to catch up.

“Tough luck Ron.” Harry said as they made their way to transfiguration. “At least you don’t have to do detention with Filch.”

“Yes, because Snape is _so_ much better” Ron replied sarcastically. “Greasy git.”

Hermione joined the conversation. “Really though, Ronald. You should know by now to handle potion ingredients carefully. I’ll admit that Professor Snape was a bit harsh, but that’s to be expected by this point. We have had him for five years now.”

“So regularly unfair is better than irregularly unfair?” Harry asked.

“Well, I don’t know about that. I think I’d prefer never unfair myself.” Ron groused.

They stopped walking for a moment, waiting for one of the staircases to move to the lading where they stood.

Ron continued complaining. “Now I have to do an essay on top of all my other homework.”

“If you had started your other assignments earlier you wouldn’t have this problem,” Hermione reprimanded. She had already finished most of her larger assignments already except for editing.

“Maybe, but I didn’t expect to have extra work and a detention. When am I gonna have time to do everything?”

Harry spoke up. “Don’t worry, Ron. We can work together tonight before you have to see Snape. Hermione will help, right?” He pointedly turned his emerald eyes towards her.

The bushy-haired girl yielded under the pleading stares of her friends. “Fine. But please try in the future to keep from aggravating Professor Snape.”

“It’s not like we need to do much except be in the same room as him to aggravate him, Hermione,” Ron pointed out.

“You know what I mean. Keep your head down and try not to attract his attention.”

“I can try, but no guarantees.”

The trio made it to Professor McGonagall’s class and began to lay out their books. Hermione quickly looked over her lengthy notes from the previous class, ensuring that she was prepared to answer any review questions that might come up.

Professor McGonagall arrived and began lecturing in her no-nonsense manner. Ron jotted down the occasional bit of information and tried to look like he was paying attention. Fortunately, they received no more homework, and transfiguration was the last class of the day. Ron was relieved to leave the class. They had spent most of the time trying to change quills into glass paperweights, and Ron’s had more often than not turned out too light to hold down anything with surety.

The three friends went to the Gryffindor common room for the following hours and got a passable amount of work done. Ron’s growling stomach warned them that it was almost time for dinner, so they put away their work and made their way to the Great Hall to eat.

Throughout dinner, Ron avoided looking at the head table, where Professor Snape was eating with the other teachers. He had to spend the evening with the bat, but for now he was determined to enjoy his time with his friends.

He had just finished a rather dramatic play-by-play description of the events in potions class to Dean and Seamus when he noticed a presence behind him. He turned to see Snape looming over him, obviously having heard the topic of their conversation. Ron internally cursed. He just couldn’t get a break today!

“I am glad you found today’s lesson so amusing, Weasley,” Professor Snape said in a voice smooth with sarcasm. “I’m sure you will find your detention… equally amusing.” With that statement, the black robed man gave an unnerving sneer and swooped away. 

As soon as Snape had exited the hall Ron let out a loud groan and let his head fall on the table with a thump.

“Why does he always show up at the worst moment possible?” He griped, with his voice muffled.

Harry and Hermione could only give him pitying looks.


	2. Chapter 2

Ron headed down the dark hallway towards Snape’s office with growing trepidation. He had ensured that he would arrive on time, but not a minute earlier. He was loathe to spend any more time with his hated teacher than necessary.

After dinner, he and his friends had gone to the Gryffindor common room. Hermione had encouraged Ron and Harry to get more of their homework done, but they procrastinated and played exploding snap instead. At Hermione’s aggravated but unsurprised sigh, Ron explained that he only had that awkward amount of time where he couldn’t really start anything, but it wasn’t time for the detention yet.

After a close and competitive game with Harry, Ron eventually groaned and stated that he had better get to his detention, or Snape would turn him into potion ingredients. It was a running joke among the fifth year Gryffindors to speculate on the greasy potion master’s punishments, making a game of saying which potions ingredients would be the worst to be turned into. Ron maintained that to become any kind of spider would be by far the worst.

The forbidding door to Snape’s office appeared far sooner than Ron would have liked, but he took a deep breath and knocked firmly on the dark wood.

“Come in.”

As Ron opened the heavy door, he marveled at how Snape could make even the most innocuous and common phrase sound as if the dark haired man would like nothing more than to string one up in the dungeons and experiment with new torture techniques.

As he walked into the office, Ron saw Professor Snape seated behind his desk, making a judicious amount of red marks upon the paper in front of him. Ron cringed in sympathy for the author of that essay, having received a fair amount of papers back from the potion master that had more red than black on them, and with enough scathing comments to send a seventh year Hufflepuff to his dorm in tears.

“Weasley,” the professor greeted unenthusiastically, his obsidian eyes meeting Ron’s sapphire ones. “In the classroom is a pile of stirring rods on the back counter. You will ensure that they are spotless, without using magic, and then report back to me for the rest of your detention.”

“Yes sir,” Ron responded, knowing that any other answer would likely result in further punishment.

He moved into the adjoining room and went to gather the cleaning equipment he would need. Upon heading to the back of the classroom, he groaned when he saw that the stirring rods were coated in a sticky substance the colour of vomit.

He began scrubbing the rods, grimacing and trying to come in as little contact with the grimy goo as possible. While he worked, he tried to guess what Snape intended as for the rest of his detention, but he couldn’t think of anything… well, anything realistic. Imaginations of forbidden rituals or dark potion’s brewing came to mind, but despite his hatred for Snape, he doubted he would ever actually do anything along those lines with a student, not with Dumbledore as headmaster at least.

It only took Ron about half an hour to finish cleaning the stirring rods. He put everything away, knowing that Snape would check to see if everything was left in order, then went reluctantly back to Snape’s office.

“Finished, Weasley?” Snape asked with a sneer.

“Yes sir,” Ron answered, eyeing the potion master, who now carried a worn brown bag over his shoulder and two pairs of gloves in his hands.

“For the next part of your detention, you will come with me to the Forbidden Forest. I have to ingredients I need to collect.” Snape watched with a smirk as Ronald’s eyes widened and his mouth opened.

Ron thought that he might rather undergo one of the wild imaginings that he had thought up earlier than go into the Forbidden Forest with Snape. He had had nightmares for weeks after that fiasco with Aragog in his second year. Since then, he had only been in the forest a few times, and that was always for a class in the middle of the day.

“But sir-” Ron tried to argue, but much like earlier in the day, his protestations made no difference.

“You will do as I say, Mr. Weasley. Besides, you and your friends must be used to the forest by now, as I’m sure you take much pleasure in venturing there and breaking the rules.”

Without giving Ron any time to respond, the professor swept out of the room leaving Ron no choice but to follow. Although Ron wasn’t short, he still had to jog a few steps to catch up with and match his teacher’s long strides.

As they walked through the hallways of Hogwarts, the few students who were still about hurried to stay out of the way of the most feared professor in the school, though some spared a sympathetic glance at Ron before they turned away.

Heading outside, Ron saw that it was still light out, but the sun was lowering in the sky much faster than he would have preferred. The pair moved quickly across the grounds and reached the edges of the forest. There Professor Snape indicated for Ron to stop.

“We will be collecting deadlyius mushrooms. They grow in the edges of the forest, so we shouldn’t need to go more than two-hundred meters into the forest. You will stay near me at all times, is that understood Weasley?” Snape fixed a demanding glare at Ron.

Ron, internally thinking that two-hundred meters into the forest was a good two-hundred meters too far, nodded. When Snape remained unmoving, he hurriedly vocally confirmed, “I understand sir.”

Professor Snape kept his piercing gaze on Ron for a moment longer, as if assuring himself that Ron actually had the capability to understand the English language, before picking two gloves and handing them to his student.

“You will need to wear these. The mushrooms themselves aren’t dangerous to touch, but often grow near and under thorny bushes.”

Ron resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He’d admit that he wasn’t the brightest wizard around, but they had had a lesson on these mushrooms only a few day before, and even he could remember information from that short a time span. Plus, he had been sitting next to Hermione during that lesson, which meant that he received a sharp kick to the shin whenever it seemed like he wasn’t paying attention. He had a bruise by the end of class, but he had also managed to retain most of the content of the lecture.

Ron pulled on the thick gloves, which went all the way up to his elbows, and waited as they magically adjusted themselves to fit his large hands. Then he turned and, taking a deep breath, followed Snape into the forest.

The sun had disappeared from the sky to reveal a bright array of stars that could periodically be seen in the gaps of the boughs overhead by the time Professor Snape called to Ron to inform him that they would start heading back to the school.

At this, Ron breathed a sigh of relief. The fact he was in the Forbidden Forest, combined with being stuck in the presence of such an intimidating man as Snape, had left him jittery and nervous. Throughout the night he had repeatedly started and one sound or another, blushing when Snape mocked him for his reactions. Despite his apprehension, the evening had been uneventful.

With relief Ron fell into step with Snape. Only a hundred more paces and he would be out of this dratted forest. That, of course, was when everything went wrong.

As they were walking, Ron thought he heard a rustle in the bushes to his left. He was tempted to dismiss it as the wind, but looking at his teacher he saw that Snape had tensed and had his wand in his hand as his dark eyes searched their equally dark surroundings. Ron gulped nervously and retrieved his own wand from his robes, pointing it the vague direction of the sound.

All thoughts of fighting were driven from his mind as a group of spiders, large like the ones from second year, emerged from the bushes and scuttled towards them on bristly legs.

Ron gave a loud cry and stumbled back, his eyes wide with fright.

“Weasley! Stay close!” He heard Snape shout, but as even more spiders ran in their direction, he turned on in heel and fled.

Heedless of where he was going, Ron stumbled and ran through the undergrowth of the forbidden forest. He heard Snape call his name a few more times, but if the professor thought that he would run back towards the spiders, he had another thing coming.

After a few more minutes of mindless flight through the forest Ron slowed to get his bearings. He felt a moment of shame for running away the way he had. _Some Gryffindor I am,_ he thought to himself. Ron could, and had, faced many frightening things in his short life, mostly as a result of his adventures with Harry and Hermione, but spiders were one thing he could never get over his fear of.

Once he had regained his breath, Ron looked around. It was with a sense of dread that he realized that he did not recognize where he was. He assumed that he was deeper into the forest, as he and Snape had been leaving when they encountered the spiders, and he had fled in the opposite direction. Farther than that, he had no idea of his surroundings.

Deciding that he had better keep moving, he turned in the direction he hoped led back to the castle and began walking.

As much as he despised Snape, he couldn’t help but miss his presence now that he was no longer there. Now that Ron was alone, he jumped at every sound, his eyes roving the darkness around him. For once, Ron actually wished to see his teacher’s prominent nose and greasy hair. Ron snorted to himself. _The git has probably just gone back to the castle and left me here,_ he thought.

Ron had been walking for about fifteen minutes when he suddenly heard a loud, deep grunt. He froze, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He recalled hearing something similar, when Quirrell had let a troll into Hogwarts. He closed his eyes, hoping desperately that he was wrong. First spiders, now a troll! Was he going to have to face all the creatures that he had in the past? What next, a dragon?

Ron was forcibly reminded that he had no time for speculation as the trees to his left cracked and shattered, revealing a huge, ugly troll wielding a gnarled club. The red haired boy was unable to suppress the loud shout of alarm that burst from his lips which immediately drew the troll’s attention.

Upon spying Ron the troll gave a growl, exposing its yellow, uncleaned teeth, and thumped towards its prey.

Ron ducked the first swing by the troll, narrowly avoiding the heavy weapon, and ran to hide behind a tree. His makeshift shelter was rapidly demolished by the next attack by the troll and Ron was forced to run again or be flattened.

Remembering first year, and gathering his courage, Ron turned to face the troll and cried out _wingardium leviosa_! Distracted as the troll lumbered towards him, his hurriedly cast spell missed, and once again he had to dodge the club as it swung at him. Realizing he needed help, Ron sent up a flash of red sparks into the sky, hoping that someone would see.

He tried to run away from the troll, but it moved deceptively fast considering its bulk, and Ron wasn’t able to get far enough. Growing increasingly desperate, Ron cast various spells he had learned throughout the years in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but with the exception of Remus Lupin their professors had been remiss in doing a good job of teaching the class, and he didn’t know the most effective way to take down a forest troll.

He continued to dodge and run from the troll’s attacks, but he was getting tired. When Ron found himself backed against a tree, he turned and frantically began climbing, hoping to escape the brutal blows. However, he had only gotten a few meters up when the troll swung again. Ron was unable to maneuver due to his position in the tree, and the club smashed into his leg before he could get out of the way.

Ron screamed in pain and in his distraction he lost hold of the branches he grasped, falling to the ground beneath him. A wave of agony shot through him as he landed and his damaged leg collapsed and he slammed onto the ground, hitting his head sharply. His vision dimmed and the roars of the troll faded out for a few seconds.

For a moment his senses returned, and he heard the distant sounding shout of someone calling his name. Right before his vision turned black and he lost consciousness, Ron saw a dark figure leap in between him and the troll, framed by flashes of coloured light that emphasized the flowing robes and tall, lanky build of his rescuer.


	3. Chapter 3

Someone was shaking his shoulder. Ron groaned and half-heartedly waved his hand at whoever was trying to wake him up. He felt his hand lightly strike something, and heard an annoyed grunt above him.

“Stop. I don’t wanna get up yet,” He muttered without opening his eyes.

A deep and frighteningly familiar voice sounded above his head. “Whether you wish to get up or not is irrelevant Mr. Weasley. We have to move away from here.”

“Snape!” Ron shot up with his eyes now wide open, realizing it wasn’t one of his dorm mates who had been shaking him. Upon the heels of that realization was the more horrifying thought that he had just hit the most feared teacher at Hogwarts’ in the face.

“ _Professor_ Snape,” sneered the potion master, but his voice didn’t seem quite as cold as usual.

His teacher’s admonishment went unheeded, however, as a wave of pain and dizziness overcame Ron. He groaned and clutched his bright red hair, taking deep breaths and focusing on not being sick.

“Here, take this.”

A small vial was pushed into his hands, containing a thick purple liquid. Ron looked questioningly up at his professor.

“It will relieve the symptoms of the concussion, and a bit of the pain from your leg,” Snape explained, to Ron’s surprise.

Grimacing, but realizing the necessity of taking the potion, Ron plugged his nose in a useless attempt to block out the inevitably disgusting taste and tipped the vial’s contents into his mouth. He spluttered a few times, but swallowed the liquid down. Almost immediately, the dizziness and headache he had been experiencing disappeared.

Ron was surprised upon meeting his teacher’s black eyes to see something like concern dancing across the face which he had surmised only ever showed anger or scorn. Unwilling to go so far as to say thank you to Snape, he gave a small nod to show that the potion worked.

Immediately the concern disappeared that Professor Snape’s features rearranged themselves into the more familiar expression of annoyance.

“What, precisely, were you thinking running off like that into the woods Weasley? I gave you very specific and clear instructions that you were to stay close to me. Instead, you did the exact opposite, and ran straight into trouble. Did your foolish Gryffindor tendencies compel you to end the day throwing yourself into danger from which someone else has to drag you out of? Idiot!”

“But professor, there were all those spiders!” Ron protested from his place on the ground. He tried to shift his position, but a stabbing pain from his leg caused his to quickly abort the maneuver.

“Spiders I was able to deal with in only a matter of minutes with no immediate danger to myself, or you if you had remained and done as you were told!” Professor Snape snarled. “However, you decided to run off and get yourself nearly killed. I suppose you thought it would earn you a story to share with all your Gryffindor friends.”

Knowing that any further protest would be futile, Ron remained silent. He watched Snape as he lectured, noticing just how bedraggled his usually impeccably dressed teacher appeared. The professor’s black robes were covered with patches of dirt and leaves, and even torn in a few places. His greasy hair, never a strong point in the first place, was matted and even had a few twigs stuck in it. The bag that had held the mushrooms was nowhere in sight. Ron also noted that Snape was breathing heavily, and despite his frustration directed at Ron, he had remained kneeling and held himself very still, with one arm placed against his ribs.

Taking this in, Ron wondered just what had happened after he had blacked out. Evidently, his teacher had defeated the troll, but it appeared that he had not remained unscathed from the encounter.

Ron let his eyes rove around the vicinity, realizing that the pair of them were sitting in a clearing created by the toll’s destructive attacks. Broken branches lay chaotically across ground and jagged stumps of trees jutted up like teeth towards the now cloudy sky.

Then he saw a lump like a huge boulder on the other side of the devastated area. After a few more moments of inspection, Ron realized that it was the downed toll.

Looking at Professor Snape, who had stopped speaking and was rummaging around in his pockets, Ron asked, “Is it dead?”

Snape paused in his activities for a moment and simply answered, “Yes,” before taking out another vial and drinking it himself.

Then Professor Snape bent over Ron to look at his leg. Ron followed his gaze, but quickly looked away upon spying the injury. The potion and his distraction had kept his attention away from the injury, but seeing it brought all the pain back like a tidal wave, and Ron let out a small groan.

Snape turned his eyes to Ron. “The potion I gave you healed your concussion and reduced some of the pain from your broken leg. However, its analgesic affects are not very long lasting.”

At this Ron only gave another groan, because of the pain as much as because of his professor’s statements.

Professor Snape continued, “We cannot stay here. You need medical attention, and the dead troll will soon attract more creatures to this area. I will levitate you and we will leave the forest.”

Ron nodded in understanding, clenching his teeth tightly in anticipatory pain. Snape waved his wand and incanted “ _mobilicorpus_ ” and Ron felt himself raise from the ground. The movement was surprisingly gentle and only caused a small amount of extra pain.

With a glance at his student to assess his condition, Professor Snape began walking, guiding Ron in front of him and ensuring that he did not bump into anything. A little guiltily, Ron remembered when Sirius had used this charm on an unconscious Snape in third year. The animagus had not been particularly careful as he had moved Snape through the tunnel back to Hogwarts.

The forest around them was surprisingly silent as they made their way under the scraggy branches overhead. Ron could only hear the rustle of Snape’s feet and slightly strained breathing behind him.

Watching above as the sky periodically appeared between gaps in the trees of the forest, Ron tried to distract himself from the pain in his leg. The potion Snape had given was wearing off, and a sharp spasms were knifing up from the injury.

As his discomfort grew, Ron shut his eyes began murmuring under his breath. Snape, ever observant, eyed his student and asked, “What are you doing Weasley?”

His voice held its usual sneer, but underneath there was a note of worry in the deep baritone.

“Chess,” Ron answered tightly.

Although he couldn’t see Professor Snape’s face, he could hear the raised eyebrow in the teacher’s tone. “Chess?”

“Yes, sir. To distract myself,” Ron answered. It was something he had done as soon as he had become good enough at the game to keep track of the pieces in his head. With his dad he often would play invisible games, each stating their move to the other periodically through the week. When he wanted to be distracted, he would play games against himself. It wasn’t the same as playing against an actual opponent, but it served its purpose and kept his mind occupied.

Professor Snape didn’t reply, and Ron internally cursed himself for saying anything. _Now I look like a wimp,_ Ron groused to himself.

“Pawn to d4.”

Ron opened his eyes in surprise and tried unsuccessfully to turn to see his professor’s face. “Professor?” he asked hesitantly.

“Pawn to d4,” Snape repeated in an even tone with an undercurrent of challenge.

Still shocked, Ron shut his eyes again and visualized a chess board. “Um… pawn to d5,” he responded.

Immediately, Professor Snape countered with, “Pawn to f4.”

Again Ron hesitated, unbelieving that he was actually playing chess with Snape of all people, but then he vocalized his next move.

At first Ron played slowly, thinking through each of his moves with careful consideration, but as time passed he gained confidence and comfort from the familiarity of the game and his deliberation was more swift. He found that Snape was as cunning in chess as he was in life, and his focus was completely on the game. With a touch of pride, he noticed Snape taking longer to decide on his next move as the game progressed.

The pain from his injury didn’t go away, and he still let out the occasional moan when the intensity increased at times, but for the most part his mind was taken up with pawns and rooks and elaborate strategies.

Ron was waiting for Professor Snape to make the next move when they finally emerged from the trees of the Forbidden Forest and the welcome sight of Hogwarts came into view. He gave a loud sigh of relief, and was surprised to hear the sigh echoed behind him.

Looking around, Ron was momentarily confused by the unusual amount of activity on the grounds considering the late hour, before belatedly realizing that it was because of him. Hermione and Harry must have noticed that he hadn’t come back from detention and gone to get Professor McGonagall. Ron allowed himself a moment to wonder what dreadful imaginings his friends had come up with when he had failed to return. They probably figured that Snape had finally gone and used him in a potion’s experiment.

Suddenly a commotion rose when the professors who had been looking for him and Snape saw them coming towards the castle. In a flurry of activity Ronald found himself laid upon a stretcher and heard the voice of Madame Pomfrey overhead. As Ron was swept away to the infirmary he surprised himself with the thought, _I never got to finish my game with Snape._

Ron lay awake in the silence of the infirmary. Upon arrival earlier in the evening, he had been moved to one of the hospital beds while Madam Pomfrey tended to his leg and other scrapes and bruises. As she had done so, Ron noticed Professor Snape lingering in the background, explaining to Dumbledore. Ron couldn’t hear Snape’s voice, but his face was as scornful as ever while he talked. In the light of the infirmary Ron could see just how disheveled his professor looked, and he could also see some bruises standing out against that pale face that he hadn’t seen before

When Madam Pomfrey was finished with Ron, she had given him a potion to help him go to sleep. As he nodded off he had seen the mediwitch turn with determination to Snape, who was still holding himself stiffly and bracing his arm against his side, and order the dour Professor to a bed. He had fallen asleep to the professor’s indignant but futile protests.

Now the infirmary was quiet and empty. Ron heard some shuffling coming and from a bed near him. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. Light footsteps, only audible because of the complete lack of any other sound, came towards his bed and stopped about two meters away.

Ron tried to remain still, but a draft blew through the infirmary and he couldn’t suppress a small shiver. A voice which Ron recognized to be Snape’s murmured an incantation, and the sheets around Ron warmed up instantly. Keeping still, Ron heard footsteps, leading away this time, out of the infirmary. After a few moments, he fell asleep again, comfortably warm and secure.

Sunlight was drifting in through the infirmary windows, lighting up the room in a soft glow, when Ron woke up the next morning. He lay still for a moment with early morning lethargy, which was quickly driven away by a shrill voice calling his name.

“Ronald! Oh Ronald, I’m so glad you’re okay. When you didn’t come back last night we were so worried. And then, when you came back we weren’t allowed to see you and were sent to bed, but we were told we could come in the morning.”

Hermione’s rambling was accompanied by an exited but gentle hug. Through her bushy hair Ron could see Harry standing with a smile on his face.

“Tell us what happened Ron!” Harry demanded, sitting in the chair by the bed while Hermione remained perched at Ron’s feet.

Ron gave his friends a brief description of the events the night before. Harry grimaced in sympathy as Ron explained having to clean the grime off of the cleaning rods, and listened in commiseration as his red-haired friend told of the spiders. He told them of meeting the troll, and of being levitated back through the forest by Snape.

“That’s rough, Ron. It must have been awful going through that with only Snape for company,” Harry said, ignoring Hermione’s glare.

Ordinarily Ron wouldn’t have given it a seconds thought before agreeing with Harry. But he thought back through the previous night and couldn’t quite muster up the will to agree.

He thought about Snape jumping in front of a troll to protect him, of the injuries the professor had received for the act. He thought about the brief flash of concern in Snape’s eyes as he tended to Ron and the gentle way he had guided him through the trees. The forest was a maze of bushes and branches, but not once had Snape let Ron hit anything on the way back. He thought about Snape playing a game of chess with him to help distract him from the pain in his leg and he thought about the man getting up in the night to check up on his student and casting a warming charm to keep him comfortable.

“Actually… Professor Snape wasn’t so bad.” Hermione looked up in surprise when Ron used Snape’s title. He ignored Harry’s puzzled look and Hermione’s pleased expression, swinging his feet out of bed. Checking to see that Madame Pomfrey was nowhere around, he stood and gestured to his friends, indicating his wish to escape the infirmary. Hermione gave him a quick once over, reassuring herself that he was okay, before leading the way with Harry to the door.

As Ron turned to follow, he saw a flash of white in the corner of his eye. Looking to the bedside table he saw a note sitting upon its surface. Perplexed, he picked up the note. He was even more confused when he saw that the writing upon it was Professor Snape’s. When he read the contents of the note his lips parted and his eyes widened in surprise.

“Ron, are you coming?” Harry asked impatiently.

“Yes,” Ron quickly responded. He turned and followed his friends out of the infirmary. As he walked he looked down at the note in his hand and read its contents again with a smile.

_Rook to b6_

End.


End file.
